


Conduct Unbecoming

by Powerfulweak



Series: Crimes and Misdemeanors Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Human AU, M/M, Seriously all the dicks, Top!Cas, Young-but-not-underage!Dean, Zachariah can eat a dick, bottom!Dean, cop!cas, cop!verse, crimes and misdemeanors verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 11:59:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1687520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powerfulweak/pseuds/Powerfulweak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 4 of "Crimes and Misdemeanors"; Zachariah decides to make Cas' life hell and his relationship with Dean suffers because of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conduct Unbecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit, am I getting this up in under a month? Go me. This chapter was hard to start and then flowed like a river at the end. Big thanks to husband for letting me pick his brain.  
> Don't you hate it when an author apologizes at the beginning of a fic and you just _know_ that shit is about to hit the fan?  
>  Yeah, me too
> 
> I would like to thank reader [AKM](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AKM/pseuds/AKM) for the original prompt that led us down this path.

“So he just looked through my wallet?” Dean turns his whole body and props his head up on his fist, “Is that even legal?”

They are lying side-by-side in Cas’ bed, sheets and blankets, bunched up around them. Not long after leaving the train, they had fumbled their way to Cas’ apartment, Dean unable to keep his hand (or his mouth) off of Cas for more than a few seconds. As soon as they’d gotten inside, Cas had once again latched onto Dean, roughly tugging the other man’s clothes off. Within minutes they were tightly packed into Cas’ shower, bodies pressed together and tongues exploring each other’s mouths. Dean’s whole body shook as Cas opened him up with slick fingers, his knees barely holding him as the cop seemed to take him apart. Cas fucked Dean with his face and chest pressed against the shower wall, hot water coursing down his back and drowning out Cas’ grunts and moans as he chased his orgasm.

Afterward, they had collapsed on Cas’ bed, still shower warm. Cas fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Dean watched him sleep, admiring the way the blade of early morning sunlight escaping through the blackout drapes highlighted his features. Even in the peacefulness of sleep, the furrow of worry never left Cas’ brow. Dean wanted to trace his fingers over it and rub the stress away. He slipped his hand beneath Cas’ pillow, finding his hand and entwining their fingers, before drifting off.

After they had both woken up, the bedside clock reading 3 pm, it hadn’t taken very much coaxing for Cas to admit his mood had little to do with Dean.

“No, it’s within his right,” Cas sighs, running a hand through his bedhead. “You were under arrest. and he’s a senior officer.” He pushes himself up and leans against the headboard, a sad smile teasing his lips. Dean takes Cas’ hand, running a thumb lightly over the knuckles in an attempt to comfort. He doesn’t know what to say. This is all his fault. Cas says he doesn’t blame him, but Dean knows that if he hadn’t kept Cas’ card, this Zachariah asshole wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. Dean doesn’t know why he even bothered to keep the card at all; Cas was already programmed in his phone under “Officer Friendly”. Maybe he was just sentimental about it.

“I’m sorry I kept the card,” Dean blurts out and gazes up at him. Cas reaches out, running a hand through the soft tuft of Dean’s hair and rubbing a thumb along his temple. He leans down and gently kisses Dean, lightly chapped lips opening just enough to run a tongue along Dean’s bottom lip.

“It’s my fault.” Cas says as he pulls away, his frown quickly returning, “It’s all my damn fault. It’s a rookie move. More than that, lying to the board, the sketch artist, everyone, was really stupid.” He scrubs a hand over his face. Dean frowns and considers Castiel.

“You regret it.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Lying?” Cas looks at Dean, his wide blue eyes already ringed from sleeplessness, “Yeah, of course I do.”

“No, I mean me… us.” Dean looks down, occupying himself with his nails. He doesn’t want Cas to see the fear in his eyes that Cas might regret getting involved with Dean, nor the hope that he doesn’t. Cas tips Dean’s chin up.

“Not at all, Dean,” Cas smiles and, for the first time today, it actually reaches his eyes. Dean rolls onto his back, reaching out and pulling Cas on top of him. He threads his arms around Cas’ neck and pulls the other man into a deep kiss. Cas moans into Dean’s mouth as his tongue slips in, sliding along the edge of Cas’ teeth. Dean inhales sharply and pulls him in tighter. The scent of Cas is intoxicating; like cinnamon gum and old spice aftershave. Cas grinds down onto Dean, eliciting a groan from the other man. Cas’ hands grip tight onto Dean’s waist as he flips them over. His hands immediately slide from Dean’s waist and underneath the sheet, the only thing covering Dean’s bare ass. His grabs a firm fistful of Dean’s backside, a slight growl rising from his throat.

“It should be illegal,” Cas gasps for air as he pulls away from Dean’s mouth, “to have an ass this perfect.” He digs his fingers into the freckled flesh causing Dean to yelp.

“I mean, seriously, it’s like it was carved from marble,” he runs a comforting hand over the indents of his fingernails, “I just want to bite it!” Dean laughs out loud at that.

“Well, shit, Cas. If you want to eat my ass, all you have to do is ask.” Dean chuckles. Cas refocuses his gaze on Dean; his blue eyes are dark and a wry smile plays on his lips. He attacks Dean in a hungry kiss, rolling them over so that he is once again on top.

“What I want,” Cas’ grin is almost wolfish, “Is to fuck you so hard into this mattress, you leave permanent indents.” His hands slide over the globes of Dean’s ass toward the center. A long finger teases at his hole, earning a surprised gasp from Dean.

“Do you want that, Dean?” a digit continues the circle the puckered skin, just barely pressing in. Dean bites back a whimper, pressing back toward Cas’ hand. “You’ve gotta answer me. I need to hear it.”

“Fuck, please Cas, yes,” Dean finally sputters out. Cas captures his mouth in a heated kiss before rolling Dean off of him. Cas crawls over the bed, reaching for the nightstand, and grabbing a bottle of lube and a condom. The tangled up sheet pulls tight over Cas’ body, perfectly outlining his firm ass. Dean can’t help staring.

Cas crawls back toward Dean. He runs a soft hand through his hair and plants a trail of warm kisses along his jawline.

“Turn over,” Cas whispers into his ear. Dean shivers at the feeling of the other man’s warm breath against his skin, but turns over as ordered. Cas hovers over his back and settles between Dean’s thighs, spreading them slightly. Dean huffs at the first touch of a slick finger. He’s still stretched from their earlier activities, but Cas takes his time nonetheless. Dean writhes and squirms as Cas works two fingers in.

“That’s it, Dean,” Cas encourages. Dean arches up, shoulders tensing, with every brush over his prostate. Cas mouths over Dean’s shoulder, warm tongue laving over his skin. Dean can feel the hot weight of Cas’ cock against his thigh.

“Please, Cas, I’m begging…” Dean cries

“Yes, you are.” Cas removes his hand and repositions himself between his legs. Cas fulfills on his promise, fucking into Dean deeply. His pace is steady and not nearly as quick as Dean wants it. He bucks back, causing the other man to groan and earning himself a sharp slap on the ass.

“Not yet,” Cas pants. He falls over Dean, caging him with his arms and picking up speed gradually. Dean turns his head from being pressed into the pillow. Cas leans over him, sucking marks down his spine.

“So fucking good, Dean,” Cas moans. His speed becomes erratic. Dean’s teeth dig into his lip, only small whimpers escaping.

“No,” Cas says, “I want to hear you.”

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean shouts, “Love it, Love it so much.” Even in this state, Dean is thankful that he’s been able to keep control of what he says. Cas grips Dean hips and suddenly pulls him to his knees. He wraps a hand around Dean’s neglected member and works him over as his own thrusts reach a frantic pace. Only a few strokes of Cas’ hand has Dean seeing stars and coming across his stomach and Cas’ bed. Cas stills with a groan, his limbs twitching just barely, as he rides out his orgasm. He collapses on top of Dean with a sigh. 

“Jesus,” Cas mutters. He places a soft kiss on Dean’s cheek as he pulls out and rolls onto his back. Dean twists and props himself up on his elbows. He watches as Cas sits up to remove the condom. Even doing something so mundane, Dean can’t help the surge of warmth he feels radiating from his center. Maybe it’s not love, it’s much too soon to be love, but he can’t explain away this feeling. Just seeing Cas makes him feel lighter somehow, like his heart is filled with helium and he just barely has a grip on the string. A funny little smile crosses his face.

Cas lays back on the bed and looks at him. He casually reaches for Dean’s fingers.

“I can smell smoke,” He says.

“What?” Dean responds, shaken from his thoughts. Cas taps a finger to his own temple.

“You look like you’re thinking pretty hard,” He clarifies. “What’s on your mind?” Dean scoots over and curls into Cas’ shoulder.

“Are you going to be in a lot of trouble?” Dean asks, avoiding what he’s really thinking.

“Most likely,” Cas replies.

“How much?” Dean continues, staring at the ceiling.

“Well, if I’m very lucky, I’ll be demoted. Slightly less lucky, I’ll be kicked off the force.” Cas’ tone is neutral, as if he’s reading back from one of his manuals,

“Worst case is jail time.” Dean sits up slowly and stares at Cas in disbelief.

“Shit,” he mutters, “They don’t fuck around, do they?”

“No, they do not,” Cas says sadly. A moment of tense silence passes between them. Dean’s heart twists in pain for Cas.

“What if you quit?” Dean blurts out.

“What?’ Cas turns to Dean, confused.

“I mean, like, what if you quit. Resigned or something.”  
“And do what, then?”

“I don’t know. Anything I guess.” Cas looks at him doubtfully. Dean just grins and leans up to place a warm kiss on his lips

“We could go to Key West,” Dean offers.

“Could we?” Cas says ruefully.

“Yeah, why not?” Dean wiggles around propping himself up on his elbows, “We could get out of here before winter hits, take my car, hell, I’d even bring Sam along. I’m sure they have schools there, right?” Cas lets out an amused snort.

“What would I do? Couldn’t be a cop” Cas questions. Dean shrugs.

“Anything you want, man. What did you want to be when you were growing up?”

“I wanted to be a cop since I was a teenager, Dean.”

“Well, Before that” Dean holds back an eyeroll.

“A Power Ranger,” Cas deadpans. Dean can’t control the bark of laughter that rises through him. Cas smacks his shoulder playfully.

“No, no, it’s cute, really,” Dean reassures as Cas smirks at him, “You could do anything you want, though. What are you good at?”

“Um, making English muffin pizzas,” Cas offers with a shrug.

“See, you could teach people how to make… really sad bachelor food.” Dean stifles another giggle at Cas’ adorableness.

“What about you?” Cas says absently, trailing a finger lightly over the freckles on Dean’s shoulder.

“For work?” Dean asks. Cas nods

“Yeah” Cas replies, “What do you do anyway?” Dean’s faces scrunches at the question.

“I didn’t already tell you?” Cas shakes his head, “Porn. I do porn.” Cas’ eyes widen instantly and Dean can’t control a fit of laughter.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Dean gasps hysterically, “I work at a collision center. I fix cars. But I had you going there for a minute, didn’t I?”

“It wasn’t entirely unbelievable,” Cas counters moving in closer, his lips within inches of Dean’s, “You are impossibly attractive.” Their lips meet. Dean inhales sharply as Cas deepens the kiss. His tongue moves past Dean’s lips and slides along the roof of his mouth. He tastes of salt and sleep and Dean can’t seem to get enough of it.

“You’re one to talk,” Dean says when they finally break away. Cas just shakes his head and pulls Dean into his arms, quieting him by locking their mouths together once more.

 

******

 

Castiel stares at the computer screen in front of him, the words instantly turning to gibberish. He presses the heel of his hand into his eyes. He is anxious and nervous and completely worn out from lack of sleep. His stomach seems to be forming ulcers on his ulcers.

It has been three weeks since Adler had confronted Cas about the card and so far there had been radio silence from the Chain of Command. There were two scenarios: either the Chain had dismissed Adler allegations, which was doubtful, or he was drawing out his torture of Castiel for as long as possible, which was more likely the case.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop was the worst part. Everyday, Cas would come to work, stomach tied into knots with the thought that today was the day his professional life would end. By the end of the day, he was wound so tight, the slightest loud noise would make him jump. Balthazar had been casting him sideways glances more often and continually asking him if he was sure he was ok. Cas would brush off his concern each time. The only bright spot in the last few weeks was Dean.

They had seen each other a few more times. Cas would text at random hours when he got off work with Dean always eagerly responding. They would wind up in one of their beds with Cas slowly thrusting into Dean, fucking away any trace of anger or stress from the previous day. Cas liked his time with Dean. It was simple, uncomplicated by the normal trappings of a relationship. Dean didn’t ask anything of Cas. He would never question him in depth, always satisfied with Cas’ response of ‘bad day’ as they got undressed. Cas found a lot of irony in the fact that Dean, a man with several aliases for some mysterious reason, was completely transparent with him. Dean was the only thing that Cas life right now that made any sort of sense.

Cas is shaken from his thoughts as Zachariah conspicuously enters the squad room, chatting with Chuck. Cas catches his eye for a brief moment and he swears he sees just the barest hint of a smile flicker over Zachariah’s face. He leans over and whispers something in Chuck’s ear. Chuck looks toward Cas for an instant, his mouth a hard line, and nods in response, motioning Zachariah toward his office.

Castiel’s mouth instantly goes dry. This is it. This is when everything begins to crumble. Chuck’s blinds over his office window are down, but the forms of the two men are visible as they shift around the room. Out of his peripheral vision, he sees someone poke through the blinds and look out. Cas seems to inherently know it’s in his direction. He drops his eyes down to his desk, trying not to lose his lunch all over his keyboard. He can feel the blood draining from his face. He doesn’t know what Zachariah is saying, but he’s probably throwing in a whole slew of allegations. _“If he lied about this, what else is he lying about?”_ He can almost hear Zachariah accusing.

Cas tries to refocus on his computer, the cursor of the report in front of him blinks steadily. He swallows hard, his throat tight and dry. If he types, continuing to finish his reports, maybe he can distract himself from how much shit he is going to be in before shift change. Cas isn’t terribly religious, but he silently prays to God for mercy.

Minutes seem like hours until the Lieutenant’s office door opens and Zachariah walks out, not even throwing a glance in Cas’ direction. Chuck stands just in the doorway, bidding goodbye to Zachariah. He scans the squad room until his eyes land on Cas.

“Novak,” Chuck calls, “Can I speak to you for a minute.” Cas clenches the edge of his desk and  braces himself, dizzy as the bottom seems to drop out of his stomach. He stands and walks on shaky legs to Chuck’s office.

Chuck steps aside as he enters and shuts the door. He walks around his desk and takes a seat. Cas lowers himself into the plastic office chair opposite him, still grossly warm from it’s previous occupant.

Chuck levels his stare at Cas. His expression is soft but unreadable. Cas swallows hard again, using all his effort to keep his face blank.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Novak?” Chuck finally says. It takes Cas a minute to respond, quickly shaking his head.

“Are you sure?” Chuck continues, “Because Sargent Adler seems to think that we should be concerned for you.”

“I don’t… I don’t know, sir,” Cas mumbles. The only thing keeping him from screaming is the thought of shoving a steak knife into Zachariah’s jaw. Chuck considers him before sighing sadly.

“I know what’s going on, Cas,” Chuck rarely uses first names, preferring the detachment of last names and titles. This isn’t good. “I know I’m your supervisor, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to occasionally throw a line your way. If there’s something going on, now’s the time to tell me.” Cas drops his head in defeat and stares at his hands.

“Lieutenant,” He begins, but he can’t continue. What is he even going to say? He let a suspect go for  BJ?  Does he need to say that he’s still fucking said suspect? What about the fact that it’s a guy? Enough of the station knows Cas is gay so that it’s not really a secret, but to make it so blatant would not bode well for the eventual investigation.

Chuck stands and walks around the desk, sitting on the corner.

“Look, I know what you’re going through,” Chuck says, leaning back on his hands, “We’ve all had these issues, y’know. And I can tell you right now that it feels better if you talk to someone about it.”

“It’s complicated,” Cas finally says, looking up at Chuck.

“Of course it is! Things like this aren’t ever simple.” Chuck gives him a sad smile.

“I… I just… I was stupid,” Cas huffs  and drops his head once more.

“No, no, Cas,” Chuck kneels besides the chair, “It’s not stupid to feel this way, we’re just worried about you. Your father sounds like a great man. Y’know, when my dad was dying, my mind went to some very dark places too-”

“My Dad?” Cas interrupts, jerking his head up quickly.

“-and I get that it feels like the pain will never go away, but you will surprise yourself.” Chuck places a warm hand on Cas’s shoulder. Cas looks at him and blinks slowly. Did Chuck think his Dad was dying? Unless Chuck had some unknown direct line to Cas’ mother, his dad was alive, in Clearwater, and most likely deep-sea fishing at the moment.

“My Dad’s not dying,” Cas blurts out.

“Denial is completely normal in this situation,” Chuck says, shaking his head.

“No, I mean, my Dad is fine. He’s perfectly healthy,” Cas says. Chuck sits back on his heels, looking very perturbed.

“He is?” He says, “Adler said your dad was dying and you’re taking it pretty hard.” Chuck’s face quickly went from concerned to confused, and Cas knew that he had to act quickly if he didn’t want him to start asking the wrong type of questions.

“It’s a friend of the family, actually,” Cas lies, “He’s like a father to me… a second father.” Chuck stands and gives Cas a sad smile.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says quietly. “You’re taking it pretty hard, huh?” Cas nods, putting on his best ‘stoic grieving’ face, all the while thinking of the number of ways he is going to murder Zachariah.

“It was a big shock, but I’m… I’m doing ok.” He replies, giving Chuck a half-smile. Chuck continues to talk to him for another 15 minutes about “the grieving process” and things “being darkest before the dawn.” Cas just nods and eventually escapes by saying that his shift is almost over and he needs to finish a report.

As soon as he exits Chuck’s office, Cas makes a beeline out of the squad room. He is absolutely livid and needs some space before he punches someone. As soon as he turns the corner to the main hallway, the object of his ire is standing there, leaning against the wall next to the doorway. Cas stops dead in his tracks.

“Hello, Castiel,” Zachariah snears triumphantly, “Did you and Lieutenant Shurley have a nice chat?” Cas rolls his eyes and walks past him out the back door of the building. He leans against the cool stone exterior, silently counting to ten and hoping he would be able to re-enter the building without going off on Zachariah Adler. It’s times like this that Castiel wishes he smoked. Then maybe he’d have some sort of distraction.

As if on cue, Cas’ phone buzzes in his pocket. He digs it out to see a new text from “D” (Castiel had been too nervous to label Dean under his real name).

 _“Do you want to come over after you get off?”_ The text read. Dean knew that Cas was on swing shift for the next couple months. He always texted close to the end of his shift when he was interested in meeting up. Although, the idea of fucking away the night’s stress with Dean did sound appealing, Cas felt physically and emotionally drained from the last hour’s encounters.

 _“Not tonight. I think I’m just going to hit the sack.”_ Cas texts back. He’ll meet up with Dean tomorrow. He takes one more deep breath and heads back inside to finish his shift.

 

****

Cas stands by his open locker, uniform hanging limply from the rail, pulling a t-shirt over his head. His mood had not improved over the remaining hours of his shift. Zachariah seemed to find reasons to be in the squad room, always directly in Castiel’s line of sight, constantly shooting daggers at him. By the time Cas had logged off his computer, his mood had reached a new, and much darker, low.

“What’s going on, Cassie?” Balthazar says, sidling up to Cas’ locker.

“Fuck off,” Cas bites. Deep down, he knows this isn’t fair to Bal, but he was already working with a short fuse. Balthazar grimaces at Cas’ outburst.

“Whoa, Castiel,” Balthazar says, “What’s going on with you?” Cas doesn’t answer, slamming his locker door and turning in the opposite direction.

“Castiel,” Balthazar’s hand lands on his shoulder, turning him around, “Are you alright?” Cas finally looks at his friend, sincere concern evident in his expression. Cas shakes his head absently.

“No,” he mutters, “It’s been a real shit day and I just need some sleep.” Balthazar looks at him pointedly. Cas shakes his hand off of him and continues to exit the building.

“I think you need something more than sleep.” He offered, following after Cas, “C’mon, you’ll feel better if you talk about it.” Cas rolls his eyes at Balthazar’s words, strangely echoing Chuck’s earlier sentiments.

“Don’t want to talk,” Cas says, pushing through the door of the building.

“Well, let’s grab a late dinner or something,” Balthazar offers.

“Not hungry.”

“Well then drinks,” Balthazar jogs forward, stopping right in front of Cas, “You could use a drink, of that I am sure.” Cas glares at him doubtfully, before sighing heavily. If there was ever a time where he needed a drink, now was it.

“Fine. Drinks.” he resigns.

“Excellent,” Balthazar cheers as they walk toward the ‘L’.

*****

They end up at a bar not far from their apartment that Balthazar knows of call The Roadhouse. As soon as they sit down, Balthazar orders them a couple of Fat Tires. Cas is happy that Balthazar doesn’t press him for information, rather respecting his request for silence. He probably already has an inkling of what is going on, but doesn’t make light of it. Balthazar can always tell what he needs. Cas is glad for that.

Eventually, though, the quiet between them becomes even too much for Cas, and they begin to talk about random movies and TV shows. By the time he finishes his second beer, Cas if feeling thoroughly distracted and, in a strange disconnected sort of way, good.   
He’s waving over the bartender to get them their third round when a strong hand lands on his shoulder spinning him around. He’s met with a pair of incensed green eyes.

“Dean?” Cas is completely caught off guard by the other man’s presence, “What-”

“Who the fuck is this?” Dean cuts him off loudly. Balthazar’s head turns toward the outburst.

“Dean, What’s wrong?” Cas face scrunches in confusion. Why is Dean yelling?

“Balthazar Roche.” Balthazar reaches a hand over Cas, extending it in Dean’s direction. For a split second, Cas could swear he sees a flash of recognition between the two men before Dean slaps the hand out of his face. He turns his attention back to Cas.

“You tell me you’re staying in, and I find you here trying to jump into some stranger’s bed?” Now it’s Cas’ turn to get indignant.

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you following me” He hisses, firmly grabbing onto Dean’s bicep, “Are you drunk?”

“Are you cheating on me?” Dean barks, his expression is full of anger, but his eyes speak of nothing but hurt and betrayal.

“Why don’t you take your friend outside before he makes even more of a scene?” Balthazar whispers in Cas’ ear. Cas nods and stands, directing Dean toward the door of the bar.

Once outside, Dean shakes Cas off, spinning on his heel and facing him.

“Now, Can you calm the fuck down?” Cas huffs before Dean has a chance to say anything. Dean’s nostrils flare, but he takes a moment to compose himself before speaking again.

“Who was that guy, Cas?” Dean asks, still hot but noticeably calmer.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s my roommate and a fellow cop,” Cas responds. Dean’s whole demeanor softens instantly.

“And there’s nothing going on between you two?” Dean frowns deeply.

“Again, not your business, but he’s painfully straight.” Cas answers, exasperated.

“Why wouldn’t be any of my business?” Dean questions.

“Why would it be?” Cas snaps, completely done with Dean’s interrogation.

“Well, when I see the guy I’m dating out with another man, it kind of becomes my business.” Dean says harshly.

Any response Cas had instantly dies on his tongue. Confusion turns to disbelief before realization slowly sets in. He shakes his head.

“Dean,” he starts, hoping to spare an ounce of the other man’s feelings, “We… We’re not dating.” Dean’s face falls, his eyes going wide in incredulity.

“What we have is really fun and I like our time together, but this… it’s not a relationship.” Cas says as gently as he can. Dean swallows hard but doesn’t say anything. “I’m sorry I… I’m sorry if I misled you in anyway.” Dean averts his gaze and lets out a humorless chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Dean says bitterly, “I mean, why would a fine, upstanding citizen like yourself want to be associated with a delinquent like me?” Cas is taken aback by Dean’s sarcastic tone.

“I did not say that,” Cas defends, “It’s not like that at all”

“Isn’t it?” Dean retorts.

“You’re a good kid, Dean-”

“Kid?!” Dean says indignantly.

“Yes, kid,” Cas says, “You’re 20, I’m almost 30-”

“What difference does that make?”

“We’re very different people-”

“Does that matter?” Dean’s voice edges on frantic.

“It’s one of many things, ok? We don’t know anything about each other,” Cas insists. Dean just stares at him with pained eyes.

“Are you kidding?” Dean’s words are thin and desperate, “ _That’s_ the bullshit reason you’re coming up with? Oh, gee, it’s not like you can’t overcome that obstacle by (I don’t know) _talking_!”  Dean’s words seem to hit Cas physically and wavers on his feet for just a moment.

“Dean, I really like what we have, but this is a very stressful time in my life and a relationship would just… throw a spanner into the works, y’know?” Cas says, trying to save face. Dean scrubs a hand down his face.

“Do you care about me at all?” He asks softly.

“What?”

“Do. You. Care. About. Me?” Dean enunciates every word. Cas hesitates. Dean catches it clearly, no longer able to control a pained noise from escaping his throat.

“Dean, I…” Cas struggles to find the right words, “You’re a great guy-”

“Oh cut the bullshit, Cas!” He yells. He gathers himself for a moment, trying to calm down, “You know, I really care about you. But I can’t… I’m not going to let myself be used as a fucktoy, ok?”

“Dean, can we just, just go back?” Cas asks, almost pleading. Dean shakes his head sadly.

“No,” he mutters, “Do me a favor? Lose my number.” Before Cas can say anything, Dean turns and walks down the block, Cas quickly losing sight of him in the dark crowd of people.

Cas stands on the sidewalk, numb from head to toe. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like he just made the second worst mistake of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> The "English Muffin Pizza" thing is a direct reference to comedian [Mike Birbiglia](http://www.birbigs.com/) and _My Secret Public Journal_. Not my own, but please check out his comedy. It's stellar.


End file.
